


Crystal Shards

by Anxiety_Elemental



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: All Or Nothing Spoilers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Living World spoilers, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Elemental/pseuds/Anxiety_Elemental
Summary: Maybe she became a necromancer in part because she thought she could tame death, that it would loose its edge, its fear, its power.It never did.(In the aftermath of the battle with Kralkatorrik, the Commander grieves)





	Crystal Shards

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who else finally finished All or Nothing and is now deeply traumatized? IT’S ME.
> 
> A little piece about my personal feelings about what happened and all the things that led up to it feat. my Commander because I have Emotions.

Zheph Ghostwalk was no stranger to death.

 

She was a necromancer, she dealt in death even more than others. Enemies fell under blade or spell, corpses transformed to suit her needs. Death was a constant companion, in more ways than one. 

 

She’s lost much to death too. Her warband. Tybalt, Eir, Trahearne. Herself.

 

Maybe she became a necromancer in part because she thought she could tame death, that it would loose its edge, its fear, its power.

 

It never did.

 

\---

 

Zheph hasn’t left the Branded pit.

 

No one could or wanted to drag a grown charr away, so no one tried. They tried words instead, that even if she didn’t know what to do next they needed to think of something, take care of the aftermath of the battle. She needed medical treatment, food, water, rest. She accepted the medical treatment when brought to her, but otherwise stayed next to the impaled corpse of Aurene.

 

“Hey.”

 

She looks up to at Braham, standing awkwardly some distance away. She stays sitting, tail curled around her legs, armor still covered in dust.

 

“Dinner’s ready in the mess hall,” he says, discomfort clear on his face, “Chefs here are actually pretty good, you know. Little less gloomy up there.”

 

Zheph turns her head back to the corpse, leaning against one of the crystals that had been Aurene’s end. She remembered when Aurene had shared her vision of their fights against Kralkatorrik, all the possibilities, all ending in Aurene’s death, and she remembered her own visceral horror. She didn’t feel afraid now, only hollow, lifeless as the stone and crystal around her.

 

She ignores Braham as he walks up to her. “Here,” she hears him say, followed by a quiet clink of metal against crystal, “Some water, doesn’t mean we all want you to stay down here though.”

 

Zheph continues to ignore him, the crystal she leans against pressing into her side. She hears the rustling of cloth and leather as Braham sits down next to her.

 

“I get it,” he says, quiet as he’s ever been, “I really do. It took me so long to figure out that Mom wouldn’t have wanted to me to wallow, to cut myself off from other people who care about me. I don’t think Aurene would want that for you either.”

 

Zheph doesn’t say anything. She lifts an arm and runs a clawed hand across Aurene’s limp paw, gentle and kind.

 

“Don’t think any of us know that much about dragons but,” Braham pauses, “What do charr do for their dead?”

 

“Cremate the body,” Zheph whispers, not looking away from her scion’s corpse, “Scatter the ashes over the site of their greatest battle.”

 

“Maybe we can figure something out,” Braham says. She hears him stand up, “I’m going back now, hope to see you up there soon. Logan will probably send Canach next if you stay down here.”

 

She hears the crunch of stone and crystal under Braham’s boots as he starts to walk away.

 

“You were right about me,” Zheph says, she hears Braham stop, “Back in Bitterfrost. Joko was right about me.”

 

“That’s not true and you know it,” he says sharply, “But I remember being too boneheaded to listen to my friends when I was grieving. I want you to remember that too.”

 

He leaves, she does not watch him go.

 

\---

 

Zheph can’t help the bitter, angry stab of jealousy when Caithe begins to speak for Aurene.

 

She’s glad for Caithe’s intervention though. As soon as the others began to imply that Aurene might become like Kralkatorrik she began to see red, started to scream at them, fangs bared and claws displayed, _how_ dare _they say that about_ -

 

But she’d only made Aurene more upset, until Caithe thought to walk up to Aurene and ask, wanted to understand what she was feeling, what she wanted to say. And when Aurene wanted to speak, but needed a voice, Caithe accepted.

 

Maybe that was why Caithe was chosen, because she did the true, hard work of raising her when Zheph couldn’t. Maybe it was easiest for her to remember that Aurene was still a child, that she was more than a prophecy, more than a duty, when Zheph herself was crushed under the weight of her own.

 

When Zheph walks up to her afterwards Caithe is smiling, even changed as she is, her bark now blue, dotted in crystal blooms. She looks happy, at peace, things she’s never seen in Caithe before. Caithe deserves those things.

 

Still, Zheph can’t help but ask, “What’s she like?”

 

\---

 

Zheph has never felt such intense relief when she saw Aurene again in Amnoon, even battle-weary, even after the horror of seeing what had been a safe haven devoured by the Brandstorm.

 

“Aurene!” she shouts, claws scratching against Branded crystal as she climbs up to the dragon. Aurene seems surprised, staring at the charr as Zheph clambers up her perch. When she reaches Aurene, Zheph stands shaking and panting.

 

Aurene looks different now. She’s about the size of an Elonian griffon, with more adult proportions, a fierce but not hostile look in her eyes. Older now, no longer an infant after absorbing Balthazar’s magic.

 

“You’re okay,” Zheph says, and she doesn’t start to cry, she doesn’t, _she doesn’t_ , “You’re okay and you fought off all those Branded! You’re okay and I’m so proud of you!”

 

\---

 

“Catch?”

 

“Yes,” explains the Exalted guard, as Zheph hears Aurene bounce and chirp cheerfully behind her, “It’s a safe, easy game an infant dragon can enjoy. It’ll help her exercise, and it will help her bond with her champion.”

 

Zheph inspects the small pile of soft leather toys at her feet, she could manage a game of catch. She picks one up, only a slight weight in her hands. Aurene spots her and chirps louder, nearly vibrating with excitement.

 

Zheph grins at the baby dragon, “You ready Aurene? Catch!”

 

She throws the ball, with more force than intended, but Aurene dashes over and catches it in her mouth. She prances around briefly, head held high with pride, before crouching down and tossing the ball back. They continue playing, Aurene dashing across the grass, Zheph shouting encouragement to the small dragon.

 

After a while, Zheph didn’t keep track of time, Aurene begins to slow down. Eventually she walks up to Zheph, dragging her tail behind her.

 

Zheph smiles, “Getting tired?”

 

Aurene makes a sleepy warbling sound. She nuzzles Zheph’s leg, and Zheph kneels down to pat her back.

 

Zheph feels an intense, almost overwhelming desire to stay in Tarir. She could, she’s sure no one would resent her if she wanted to stay and look over Aurene herself. She’s been handed a duty to protect, a cause centuries old, one she cannot ignore

 

She runs a clawed hand across Aurene’s head, gentle and kind. She has other duties too: to Dragon’s Watch, the splintered thing it was. To the Pact, even if she wasn’t their Commander anymore. To her people. To the world.

 

She couldn’t be selfish and call it duty.

 

“I’ll be back when I can,” she promises, “Be good for Caithe and the Exalted for me.”

 

Aurene burbles, and nuzzles closer to her chest. Zheph lets her.

 

\---

 

“You ever think about having cubs?”

 

Zheph looks up from her work, “Huh?”

 

Their warband’s camp in the Black Citadel is more subdued this time in the evening. Drills are usually over, except training for night ops, so people begin to clean up and finish maintenance work. Tonight Zheph and Reeva are taking their turn repairing the training dummies in the yard. 

 

“That little group from the fahrar today,” Reeva continues, picking up a severed wooden arm, “You were their favorite, you know? Thought you were the greatest thing they’d ever seen, showing off your fanciest spells, twirling your staff, raising those gross worm things,” Reeva smiles, walking back over to Zheph, “You were great with them. You seem like the type to visit your cubs in the fahrar, throw a big party after their first battle, that sort of thing.”

 

Zheph shrugs, “I’ve thought about it,” she admits, “I’d like to, but having cubs means leave, and leave means,” she wrinkles her nose, “A _desk job_.”

 

Reeva throws back her head and laughs loudly, “True, you’d hate that!”

 

Zheph shrugs again, turning her attention back to her work, “Maybe one day.”


End file.
